Porcelain Dancer
by peppermintshoes
Summary: The war is over, the battles have been fought and all that remains is a small wooden box.


Title: Porcelain Dancer  
Rating: T (rated for graphic description of violence/injuries)  
Pairing: HitsuMatsu,  
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it, never will  
Summary: The war is over, the battles have been fought and all that remains is a small wooden box.

Porcelain Dancer

There was a box on her desk. A dark, hand painted, cherry wood box. It was covered in dust, but that was to be expected; after all, who had time to dust when there was a war going on? There were far more productive things to be done, and indeed anyone found wasting their time doing something so trivial as cleaning would have been given a stern talking to. The war was over now, though, and she had all the time in the world. With shaking hands she lifted the box, a damp cloth in one hand, and began to slowly and methodically clean its beautifully painted surface. With each side she wiped, with each new flower that appeared from under the dust, she was assaulted with memories; sights, sounds and feelings from a past era. The war had lasted nigh on a year, but details from before that time were blurry and incomplete, experienced a weary lifetime ago. As her hands wandered to the catch that held the lid shut, so her mind wandered, relieving her of the burden of now and taking her back to an easier time.

_  
It was a sunny day in Karakura town. The two of them were enjoying an unusually quiet afternoon, strolling casually through the streets and glancing from time to time into the windows of various shops that lined their path. One window in particular caught her eye and she grabbed her companion's hand, dragging him into the store. She clapped her hands at the clever box that played music when she opened it, and marvelled at the tiny porcelain girl on a spring who danced to the music, revolving slowly on the spot. He grumbled at her, of course, and called her childish, but when they arrived back from the real world the beautiful box sat squarely on her desk, its painted flowers a cheerful welcome home._

_She chided him for buying her gifts in the middle of a war, but he simply shrugged and stated that if the war meant he had to forsake showing his appreciation to his friends then Aizen had already won. She nodded at that, and the next day he found a new set of carved brushes and ink set sitting on his desk, her own way of showing her own appreciation, the war around them be damned._

She let her fingers toy idly with the catch for a while, debating whether or not to open it. Inside awaited a melody both beautiful and haunting, bittersweet to the ears that longed to hear it play once more, yet too afraid for fear of the memories it would bring.

_  
"Attention all squads, attention all squads! We have breaches at the north and west Sereitei gates, the far eastern wall and the eighth, twelfth, and fourteenth districts of Rukongai. All captains are to dispatch their two strongest squads immediately to the following locations. North gate: second and fifth divisions; West gate: third and ninth; Eastern wall, sixth and seventh; Eighth district Rukongai: eighth and tenth..."_

_The rest of the message was tuned out as soon as the tenth division was mentioned. Matsumoto didn't need to know what the other squads were doing. All that was important right now was that she did her part in defending Sereitei and the rest soul society. After a cursory check to ensure that Haineko still resided at her waist she grabbed her battle bag and, with a quick glance at her captain, the two of them flashed out of the room to their division's meeting point. While they waited precious minutes for the first and second assault squads of the tenth division to materialise, Matsumoto opened her battle bag and extracted the items necessary for the upcoming fight. A thick hair elastic and clip made short work of her prided locks and a long piece of rope crisscrossed across her back to tie her sleeves out of the way. Her scarf was stowed in the bag and swapped for a large band of thick elastic material which she fastened around her upper body and under her outer kimono, effectively binding her breasts to her body. Although she had fought for centuries in her regular uniform, with her hair and sleeves untied and her breasts allowed the usual freedom she gave them, Matsumoto had long ago acknowledge that this was no ordinary fight. She could not afford such distractions as hair in her face, or her breasts falling out of her kimono. She shared a long look with her Captain and read everything in his expression that he could not say aloud._

_They've arrived_

_This is it  
_

_Be strong  
Be quick  
Be better_

_Don't die._

_Rangiku blinked and broke their silent contact. The rest of the squad had arrived and her Captain's words washed over her as he spoke to them, instructing and encouraging them. There was a moment of silence, then they were moving, far too quickly for her liking, towards their fate._

Matsumoto blinked back tears as the memories of that day washed over her. It had been a battle of epic proportions, the be-all and end-all with both Shinigami and Arrancar throwing all the had at the opposing side. The dispatch orders had soon changed from the top two squads of each division to every member of every division, until virtually every Shinigami and even a few fifth and sixth year students were fighting. The fourth division had been overwhelmed with casualties and dead bodies and during the three day battle the entire squad worked to the point of collapse to save as many lives as possible. Indeed, Unohana herself not only oversaw the work of the entire division, but took it upon herself to protect their makeshift outdoor infirmary, tiring battles interspersing themselves between her healing work. The strain had proven too much for even the strong Captain and after her fifth day of relentless healing and not a minute of sleep, her body gave out. A week later and still the powerful Captain had yet to regain consciousness, leaving Isane to oversee the division.

Matsumoto bit back a sob. Whilst the Shinigami had ultimately prevailed that day, the death toll was ridiculously high. She had known it would be, of course, but that knowledge didn't make it any easier to deal with.

_  
She panted as the blade swung down past her head, narrowly missing her left ear. She had been fighting this particular Arrancar for almost half an hour and although she was holding her ground, she had not managed to disable her opponent yet. Sparks flew as her blade locked with that of the Arrancar, then disappeared as Haineko scattered into a thousand pieces, each no bigger than a speck of dust yet infinitely more deadly. At the back of her mind, she vaguely registered her Captain's reiatsu disappear then return a moment later with several more division members. She catalogued the feel of their reiatsu in the back of her mind, a tiny piece of her concentration devoted to each in the hope that, should one of them flicker, she would be able to lend some assistance._

Matsumoto blinked fiercely as tears began to prick behind her eyelids. Still she fingered the delicate clasp, unable to bring herself to open the box, the expectation of the haunting melody still too strong to let her open it. She knew that as the melody came out, so too would the memories.

_  
Two days later and they were still fighting. There had been several slight lulls in the fighting, but nothing significant enough to allow anyone to recover. The improved strength fortification pills developed just months earlier by the fourth division were really the only things that were keeping them going. That, and the sheer will to see the Arrancar defeated. Matsumoto fought very differently from the way she had started fighting two days previously. Gone was any form of hesitation, mercy or compassion. The Arrancar were the enemy and had to be dealt with as such. Her blows were quick, powerful and efficient. She wasted no time on useless foreplay with swords, instead preferring to call out her Zanpakutou as soon as the fight began, a move which allowed her to finish each battle that much quicker. She was utterly ruthless, moving from one enemy to the next the moment she was certain they were dead._

_As the tiny fragments of Haineko obliterated the yet another Arrancar, Matsumoto heard a heart-wrenching and sickeningly familiar scream. She turned just in time to see the tail of a particularly large Arrancar flatten a Shinigami into the ground with the sickening sound of crushed bones and beaten flesh. She almost vomited as the tail lifted to reveal the bloodied pulp of a body that had once belonged to the vice-captain of the eighth division._

Weeping, Matsumoto opened the box and let the music play, its bittersweet melody free at last. The notes were soft and gentle, yet inexplicably tainted with sorrow as they flowed from the box. The porcelain dancer within twirled slowly on the spot, her painted face a perfect mask of grace and serenity. How lucky for the dancer that she was made of porcelain, as opposed to spirit particles or flesh and blood. How lucky for her that she was able to keep her features curved in such a gentle smile. How lucky for her that she was not alive and conscious to experience the hate and depravity of the shattered world around her.

Of course, she had known that the war against Aizen had to be won at all costs; they all had. Contrary to popular belief, Matsumoto was not a stupid woman and she knew as well as anyone else the power the Arrancar wielded. She knew the war had needed to be won at all costs. She just hadn't expected the cost to be so high.

_  
The number of enemies had finally diminished and many of the lower-ranked Shinigami had retreated to allow the Captain and vice-captain class Shinigami more room to fight. Over the past three days, although they had fought hard, the Captains and Vice-captains had deliberately moderated their energy expenditure. In the first two days, only the eighth, ninth and tenth Espada had shown themselves, and the leaders of each division had ensured they had sufficient energy reserves for when the more powerful Espada attacked. It wasn't until the third day, after the rest of the Arrancar had been defeated, that the Espada appeared. With their appearance had come a mass withdrawl, ordered by Yamamoto himself. Anyone ranked lower than a fifth seat was not, under any circumstances, to remain anywhere near the battlefield. To allow them to do so would be a cause of even more pointless and possibly avoidable deaths._

Matsumoto continued to sob as the music box played its haunting melody. In her mind she slowly listed all the friends she had lost to the war. Nanao, Kira, Yumichika, to name just a few. All their deaths, absolutely pointless as far as she was concerned. True, they had died for a cause and they had died "nobly", but to her way of thinking all death caused by a pointless war was equally as pointless.

_  
There were seven Espada in total, fighting against the Shinigami in a battle that would ultimately determine the victor of the war. The Espada chose to fight alone; the Shinigami, together. Most Captains and Vice-captains fought together, or with another soul whose fighting style they were well familiar with. The familiarity of a well-known fighting style would give them a slight edge, allowing two Shinigami to fight as one. From her position next to Hitsugaya, Matsumoto occasionally glimpsed the others on the battleground. Shunsui and Ukitake fought not with their own subordinates but together, their battle a highly choreographed dance, their graceful and synchronous moves borne of a millennia of familiarity and trust. Similarly, Soi Fong and Yoiruichi wove a deadly dance around their opponent, their weapons flashing in the dying sun._

_Their opponent attacked and Hitsugaya blocked her whilst Matsumoto retaliated, flash-stepping behind her and delivering a blow to her back. The Espada screamed in rage and turned her released Zanpakutou on Matsumoto, who dodged it before flashing back to her Captain's side. She blinked, suddenly confused as she realised that there appeared to be two of their enemy, one in front of them and one behind. She and Hitsugaya dropped to the ground and the blades swung over their heads, narrowly missing them. She leapt to her feet then, before she could move another millimetre, she was swept off her feet and knocked over one hundred metres away, caught by the powerful arm of their enemy. As she rushed to return to her captain's side, the unthinkable happened. As if in slow motion, Rangiku watched as the Espada's enormous, flaming sword impaled itself in Hitsugaya's chest, almost cleaving him in two._

_Her Captain's reiatsu flickered then died and for a brief moment, her mind went blank, unable to process what had just happened. Then the blind rage kicked in, and she did something she knew she shouldn't be doing. It was stupid, of course, and dangerous, but at this point in time she was too livid to care. She flash-stepped over to the Espada and pointed Haineko at her, a dangerous look flashing in her eyes._

_"Ban-kai!" she screamed, letting raw power course through her as the tiny slivers of Haineko exploded outward before resolving themselves into something much bigger. No one, save for Hitsugaya had ever seen this; she had only achieved Bankai mere months ago, not nearly long enough to tame and master it sufficiently to use in battle. Yet that didn't matter to Matsumoto. All she could think of was bringing down the Espada who had killed her Captain. Several of the other Captains took a moment from their fights to watch as she deftly wielded two long, thin blades as a thousand more, smaller curved blades swirled around her head like a lethal cyclone. She slashed her right blade down and the tiny claw-like blades above her head moved instantly, heading directly for the Espada in front of her. Her movements were precise and well practised; although her Bankai was relatively new the movements, similar to the ones used to control Haineko when in Shikai, were not. Rangiku screamed aloud and charged, blades flying at her opponent from all directions. Her control over her Bankai was shaky at best, and she gripped her swords tighter as several of the small blades turned on her, biting into her flesh and drawing blood. Matsumoto ignored them; she was beyond caring about her own wellbeing and her mind was focused on a single thought. She would kill this woman if it was the last thing she ever did._

Letting out a scream that conveyed what words alone could not, Matsumoto snatched up the delicately painted box and flung it across the room, watching as it hit the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces, a mockery of the beauty it once was.

_  
Rangiku's hands shook as she caressed the pale face that rested on her knees. The shock of white hair was caked with blood and grime, the pale skin streaked with dirt, the whites of his blue eyes marred with redness caused by burst capillaries. Hot tears dropped silently from above as Rangiku bent over the body of her Captain, holding onto him as though her life depended on it. Unohana had come to her an hour previously, encouraging her to return to her division, but Matsumoto had shaken her head and continued to cling to her Captain. She would let go eventually, but for now she couldn't bring herself to leave him. Unohana had nodded in understanding and moved on, her hand resting briefly on Rangiku's shoulder in a silent gesture of support._

_Around the large hall, Matsumoto observed many similar sights. To her left, Kuchiki Rukia was hunched over the lifeless form of her adoptive brother. To her right, she could see Shunsui in a similar position to herself, the diminutive form of his Vice-captain cradled in his arms, courtesy of Isane whose kind kidou spells had repaired the woman's crushed body to a semi-recognisable state, allowing Shunsui and others the opportunity to bid the Vice-Captain goodbye. Despite the spells, Nanao's body still bore horrendous wounds; her black-clad legs were splayed at odd angles with one foot missing entirely, there was a substantial chunk of flesh missing from her abdomen and the entire right-hand side of her face was virtually unrecognisable, her cheek and jawbones showing through what little flesh remained. Rangiku's heart went out to Shunsui, his usually joyful face showing a sorrow that she had never before seen it display. For all his ridiculous flirtations, Rangiku knew that his feelings for his Vice-captain went well beyond that of a mere superior. All throughout the hall, Matsumoto could see similar scenes as the Shinigami around them mourned for their dead, for the loss of their loved ones. They may have won the war, but what a terrible price they had paid for it._

Matsumoto slid slowly down the wall as her knees collapsed beneath her. Her tears came hot and fast now, creating streaky trails down the dirty face she could find no motivation to wash. Her whole body shook, her unrestrained sobs echoing through the otherwise silent room. She let her head fall against the wall, the tears dripping slowly down her cheeks, wondering where she could possibly go from here. How could she go on when she had lost so many of the people most dear to her? How could people expect her to act as though nothing had changed when everything, _everything_ had changed?

_  
She had known this time would come. She had known it from the minute the final Espada had been defeated, but she had done her absolute best not to think about it. Thinking about it meant accepting it, and accepting it meant accepting the events that had led to this. Yet there was no avoiding it._

_"Matsumoto Rangiku, by order of Yamamoto Soutaichou, leader of the Gotei thirteen, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Captain. As of now, you are given control of the tenth division, as well as the roles, privileges and responsibilities that come with the position. Do you accept this position?"_

_Matsumoto stood straight, pursing her lips together to control their quivering. She didn't feel ready to become a Captain yet. She had only just achieved Bankai, she was lousy at organisation and despite her many years as a Vice-captain she didn't feel as though she was even remotely prepared for such a task. Yet despite this all, she knew that as a Shinigami loyal to the Gotei thirteen this was her duty. They were now short not three but five Captains, and the positions needed to be filled a soon as possible if the Gotei thirteen was going to stumble its way back to its feet._

_Matsumoto pulled herself tall and raised her head, her face displaying the most confident look she could muster._

_"I accept." She bowed low and accepted the proffered white haori from the Shinigami in front of her. She nodded her thanks to him, all the while knowing it was unlikely that she would ever wear this particular item of clothing._

Matsumoto started as she felt someone sit down next to her, a large, warm arm going around her shoulders. She didn't need to look up to know who it was, and without a second thought she turned her head and buried it in his robes, clinging to him for dear life as she sobbed. He gripped her equally as tightly and as she felt hot salty tears drip onto her forehead and mingle with her own, she realised that he was crying too. Neither knew how long they sat there, crying together for their lost loved ones. They had been relatively strong for their respective divisions, stoic and reliable, but here, in the privacy of her office, they could allow themselves to truly mourn.

Minutes passed and eventually he spoke.

"Ne, Ran-chan, there's a Captain's meeting about to start. I wasn't sure if you got the hell butterfly so I thought I'd drop by. After all, I know you tend to forget these things." He told her wryly.

Rangiku gave a watery laugh. "Don't lie, Shun-Kun. You know as well as I that you're even worse at organisation than I am. The only reason you ever manage to make it to your meetings is because..."

She trailed off, reluctant to finish the thought.

"... is because my Nanao-chan always kept me in line, ne Ran-San?"

Rangiku nodded, her eyes tearing up again. "Its the same way I always got to my meetings on time. Taichou was always organised enough for the two of us..." She trailed off and choked back a sob, the idea of talking about her Captain still to raw and painful for her. Shunsui stood and gently pulled her to her feet.

"Come, Ran-chan, we have a meeting to attend."

Rangiku nodded and straightened the sleeveless white haori she wore, the small stains around the hem and a hastily mended tear under one arm indicative of a previous wearer. It was far too small for her; the front panels came only halfway across her breasts and it was so short it barely reached her thighs, yet despite the ill fit it suited her. Prompted by the tug at her hand, she accompanied Shunsui out of the room, turning at the last moment to give one final glance to the shattered box in the corner.

Its pieces were scattered across the floor, chunks of painted wood, metal and the mechanical springs from inside littering the tatami mats. In the midst of it all lay the porcelain dancer, her delicately painted features unrecognisable as she lay amid the wreckage of what once was a perfect world, now broken beyond repair.

FIN


End file.
